


My Roots (Run Deep)

by Qikdaelun



Series: Kintsukuroi [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Angst, BAMF Michelle Jones, BAMF Ned Leeds, BAMF Peter Parker, Ben Parker Dies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Friends to family, Heavy Angst, Hurt Michelle Jones, Hurt Ned Leeds, Hurt Peter Parker, Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Ben Parker, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Torture, whump Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-20 07:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20671697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qikdaelun/pseuds/Qikdaelun
Summary: Peter knows when things are getting worse. He could read it in the sky. Only he was seven years old. Knowing something bad was about to happen isn't the same as being able to stop it. It was only a matter of time before his parent's life work lead back to him.He just wished he didn't drag everyone else into his problems. He could barely stand to breath when he remembers all the people that he brought into his new world. But maybe it was because of these people that he had even survived.Or:This an origin story for my other fic (Picking Sides (in a Circle)).My AU of how Peter got his powers, where MJ learned to be BAMF and how Ned is underappreciated.





	1. “I’m no hero, believe me when I say I’ll never be a hero. But I guess just you for and just this once, I might as well be.”

Whenever Peter thinks back to when it all started, he remembers rain. It wasn’t a heavy rain, but a steady drizzle.

.

.

Peter suddenly was seven years old again, going to a gifted school designed for those who could be the next Einstein. Kids with all kinds of natural born talents that make them expects in the making in their field go here. Peter was a smart kind. His physics and chemistry knowledge helped him get into this school.

He liked it a lot since he first joined a few years ago. He had a cool best friend with a secret handshake. But right now he was excited to just go home to his family. He knew it would be his aunt picking him up from school – his parents were out of the country for some project or another- they always were and have been for a really long time.

Peter remembers staring at the sky as he sat on the steps on the school. The sky was a light grey and the clouds practically illuminated in front of the sun. He remembered it being so pretty, but it felt wrong.

Whenever he sees the clouds like it was that day, his body runs cold. He knows something is coming. Something that he cannot escape.

.

.

“Petey-pie you haven’t spoken once since we picked you up.” Aunt May smiled as she tucked a curl behind Peter’s ear. We’re going to pick your parents up from the airport later this week. Aren’t you excited?”

It’s been over two years since Peter last saw his parents. He can’t even remember what they sounded like. Whenever he tried to it was like his head was under water. Their voices were always vague. When Peter thought about home, family, safety- stability; May and Ben always came to mind and that was always enough. Just May and Ben. He wasn’t sure he could associate his actual parents to family anymore, even though he knew they loved him. But that was something even seven year old Peter understood he shouldn’t say out loud. Everyone knew it, no one wanted to acknowledge it. “Yeah, Aunt May. I’m really excited.” Smiled the third grader.

May looked like she was about to say something, when Ben glanced at Peter from the rear-view mirror. He must have understood something as he turned to look back at the road. “Hey, Champ. How is Ned doing?” Peter remembered how Uncle Ben kept looking at the road and how his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

Ned Leeds. Peter met the other boy back in first grade and they clicked. Nothing awkward, or any nervousness. They were to halves of the same dummy (according to a girl in his class, he wasn’t sure if MJ even liked them or not yet). “Ned is awesome, Uncle Ben! We played with Legos at recess, and he was telling me about how he won first prize at his computer tech camp over the summer! He’s sooo cool and he’s my bestest friend forever. He promised!”

Uncle Ben relaxed his grip on the steering wheels as he listens to the nephew he considered a son gush about his best friend; Ned made a secret walking talkie watch that he gave to Peter. He sent a silent prayer to keep both boys happy and safe. He would give anything to keep Peter safe and happy.

.

.

It was one week after that when Uncle Ben did give everything to keep his loved ones safe and as happy as he could keep them.

Peter’s parents never made to their fight. Their car to airport blew up as soon as they were on the highway.

The official reports indicate an engine issue where the petroleum was leaking into the engine and caught a spark. Even sitting in his living room with Aunt May’s arms tightly around him, he knew it was lie. He knew something was wrong when his parents didn’t arrive even to the airport. Cars don’t spark once it’s already started.

Uncle Ben must have known as well, since he was packing everything they could fit in their hiking bags. Peter watched him pack food, clothes and his secret stash of money. He made a lot of phone calls. He took a pair of Peter’s clothes and filled them with old clothes.

Peter couldn’t hear what he said on those phone calls, but years later he didn’t need to. He knew very well what Uncle Ben was talking about.

“May, grab Peter and let’s go. Honey, I love you with all my heart, but we need to move. They’ll be here any moment.”

Peter remembers feeling his aunt shake while she held him, taking in a deep breathe before letting it out, her arms steady like steel around him. She held Peter in her arms, guiding his face into her shoulder as she lifted him. “Yeah. I love you so much, Benjamin. And I fall more helplessly, utterly and willingly for you every day.”

Soon Aunt May put Peter down as they were about to exit there apartment, Uncle Ben had lifted the Peter Dummy into his arms, holding it like May held him. She guided Peter into an empty box that she lifted easily, grateful that Peter was such a small child.

As one of the last small mercies Ben could have given the boy he loved so profoundly, he places Peter’s old otter stuffie, Finn, into the box as well. “Look Peter. There are a few things I need you to always remember, okay?” he waited until the seven year old nodded his head; Ben smiled to himself as he held his boy’s hands in his own, losing himself in those large brown eyes that could do no wrong. “One, things are going to get really scary and confusing soon, but never doubt that we love every bit of you with every thing in us to love. You are the answer to every prayer I didn’t even know I needed. You are my baby boy, my Bambino. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do, wouldn’t give for you. Never forget that. Don’t let the world change you. Second, I know you won’t understand this now, but you will later: there are some fates worse than death, so much worse than dying. Finally, if it ever gets too much for you, if the world ever begins to overwhelm you, hug Finn as tight as you can and know that wherever you are, I am somewhere holding you just as tight, okay? Promise me you’ll remember.” Ben’s voice began to quiver, “Oh God, I love you so much Bambino.” 

(That was the last time he would ever hear Ben’s voice- broken as he squeezed his hand more time before he let him go. Peter didn’t realize they were saying goodbye, but Ben did.)

And then they were moving; Uncle Ben carried the fake Peter with him into his car, tucking him safely into the passenger seat, Aunt May took Peter into her black car packing him in the back seat as she drove off. Peter remembers watching her cry as she refused to look back as she left the man she had loved for a lifetime, possibly more if fate was kinder to her. They didn’t even make it past the first intersection when Peter first heard the gun shot.

Peter will never forget turning around in his box as he looked back to where his Uncle Ben once stood. There were men, all dressed black, surround him as he laid on the concrete bleeding. The post lamp made the blood oozing from him glisten, so Peter could make out Ben’s ragged breathing as they drove away. Somewhere behind him, he could hear May cry out, but he knew she wouldn’t look back. (Maybe that was harder, being able to do something but forcing yourself not to.)

So Peter did for her. He watched the man she loved, his Uncle Ben- his very own hero, turn his head away as someone held a gun to his head, refusing to talk. Everything froze in that moment, when the man pressed the trigger and Ben jolted from the ground. Only this time, he chest wasn’t moving anymore.

He knew his uncle was dead before they even turned the corner.

(He should have known because when he woke up that morning, the skies were cloudy and shined that bright grey colour. A beautiful day, but something felt inexplicably wrong.)

.

.

“We’re going be okay, Bambino,” May kept whispering to Peter, who she was trying to convince was lost on the boy. His uncle, her husband, was dead lying in a puddle of cold blood. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. They both knew it.

Peter held Finn as tight as he could, pretending it was Ben. Maybe Uncle Ben would know that this time, it was Peter that was holding him tight and protecting him from the all the bad guys in world. “Yeah, Aunt May. We’re going to make it. I love you.”

They spent hours on the road taking the most round about way out of the city. May made sure to stick to all the major roads and where there was enough traffic. Somewhere when she stopped to get gas she carried Peter out of his box and placed him in her lap as she starting to driving again.

She’d used to sing in his ear when he was little. Only this time it was a sad lullaby (and even today, if Peter listened closely at the night, he’d be able to hear her voice).

.

.

Peter doesn’t remember much of ride to the safe house that Aunt May had taken them to. Somewhere safe to hide until they finally lose interest in them. It was somewhere in the wilderness, tress and a running river close by. Though he doesn’t remember much of the ride there, he remembers Aunt May opening the door to the house only to scream.

There were guns being shot and yelling, so much yelling. Aunt May held him close in her arms as she tried to both shield the child and move away from the door. Apparently whoever was after them had been waiting them to arrive.

Aunt May, the aunt that wasn’t actually related to him by blood cocooned Peter so tightly in her arms that he felt every time the strange men, again dressed in black, would try to rip her arms away from him. He felt every push and pull, every hit that landed on her back, every kick that had her gasping for her bearings.

“Please stop hurting her,” Peter remembers crying. “I’m begging you. She’s all I have left. Please don’t hurt her. I’m sorry, I’ll do anything but please. Please, just stop.” He felt his knees buckle underneath him, only the arms Aunt May had around him holding him up.

“You should listen to the boy. You’re only letting yourself get hurt.” On the men mocked as he landed another kick to her head. “Let the boy go, and we might just spare you.” Eventually May couldn’t hold on any longer and she was ripped off the boy. (The horror on her face would haunt the child for years to come.)

“May! May, please!” Peter reached his hands out for her, watching her in between his fingers. The man that grabbed him straightened out his right arm, then there was a sharp jab into his elbow.

At the instant, everything was lost to Peter except for his arm. The arm felt at if the blood flowing through it was glass and it was scraping the inside of his veins. There was a loud, ear piercing sound that wailed over the clearing (years later Peter would realize the screams were his).

Desperate to release any of the tension building up in his arm he began to convulse on the ground, trying to distance his arm from his body as the sensation clawed and screamed it’s way up to his shoulder and down his throat.

When he had awoke (when did he pass out?) he was still in the clearing, with his ear ringing loudly and he was covered in blood and vomit. The taste of acid in his mouth let him know that it him that threw up, but the blood couldn’t have been all from him. There was just no way. His arm was heavily bleeding from how hard he must have scratched at it but he watched with morbid fascination as the scratches knitted themselves back together.

“Petey? Baby? Speak to me. Baby, please!” was the first thing Peter's senses registered. His vision, that seemed far clearer then they have ever been before, tracked down the source to Aunt May. She was also converted in blood and bruises. It looked so wrong for a woman like Aunt May be hurt. Some people should only be loved and cherished. Like Ben.

“May…?” Peter tried to crawl over to her, but he was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of iron forcing him to heave whatever remained in his stomach. Even afterwards it brought no comfort for everything became too loud and too bright. The mud on his knees were like sand paper, the vomit making his shirt cling to him and the dull lighting from the moon all seemed like too much. Peter lost consciousness again.

.

.

When Peter woke up again everything was white and he was strapped down on a gurney. Peter felt completely insignificant in the room as he tried to keep quiet. A feeling gnawing at the back of his mind that there were men round the corner, the ones he could practically sense meant him harm, so much so that he could practically feel it in his bones.

May. Where was Aunt May? She had to be here. She just had to be. He couldn’t bare to lose her, too. He couldn’t bare to lose her, but if he did- was it a quick death like Ben? Did they make her suffer? She would have died gallantly, that Peter knew for sure.

“Ah, little spider, looks like you’ve awaken. It’s nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Chinuitor. I’m sorry some of my men were so archaic earlier. I never wanted them to hurt your Uncle, but I can’t really do much about that. But your Aunt, on the other hand. She’s still alive, but for how long? Only you can decide, little Spider.”

“Please, just please, let her live. I’ll do anything.” Even at age seven and then some, he knew he was being manipulated, but the panic rose so much so that he was drowning. It was like watching water rise in a glass room, helpless to stop it.

“I know baby Spider, how about we make an agreement? We keep your Aunt alive, like you want. And in return you do as we say, like I want. Does that sound like a fair compromise to you?”

Peter just nodded lifelessly. He just wanted his aunt, why couldn’t he just see her. “Can I see her?”

“After, little one. After.” The Doctor approaches the young boy with a scalp in his hand. You see, I want to run some tests first on you. Your parents were so stubborn, but intelligent all the same. They created a way to enhance a regular human to become something like a true Ironman, isn’t that cool, little boy?” When Peter didn’t answer, the scientist sighed. “I’d like an answer when I ask you a question.” He pulled a remote out of his pocket, pressing strange sequence of buttons before the wall on the far right opened up to glass window.

Behind the glass was Aunt May.

She was chained to the wall, with little wires attached to all over her. Over her heart and her temples. Peter didn’t need to be gifted to realize what they were intended for. Without warning the wires sent shock after shock to the woman. Without Peter in her arms, May couldn’t find the strength to be strong as she let out a curling scream after another.

Peter remembers crying as he begged for the doctor to stop. He begged for forgiveness. He promised to behaviour. He promised his obedience, his everything if he would just stop hurting his Aunt May.

(The responding, “Oh, but you did this, dear boy,” still haunts him every now and then. He hates those days.)

.

.

Eventually the Doctor stopped and Peter felt like he could breath for the first time, like the weight has been lifted as he watched Aunt May breath from where he was; even if it only lasted a moment before the wall cover the glass window- blocking Aunt May from his sight. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” The doctor smiled. “As I was saying: your parents created a way to create genetically superior soldiers using their own DNA! But they burned all of the records of their work! Said the world didn’t need such things! The fools! But they couldn’t hide their finished product. And that’s were you come in, son of Mary Parker and John Parker. You will be the greatest form to ever walk to the planet! Even the infamous Ironman will crumble to your might! Don’t you want that, little boy?”

No. Peter didn’t want to become some sort of weapon to these people. He didn’t want to be forced into whatever experiment these madmen devised. He just wanted to go home, curled up on the sofa in between the two people he loved the most. But one was dead now, and the other dying, so he couldn’t have that. “…yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Will you let us enhance you, child?”

“Yes.”

.

.

The months that followed after were some of the worse Peter could have imagined. He was stabbed with new serums daily, some days forcing him to vomit to the point he was dry heaving for hours, begging for something to ease the pain. But whenever he asked for mercy he was rewarded by having hot iron pressed against the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands. Everything hurt so much.

If he fell unconscious, he would be dumped into ice cold water repeated, even after he was awake. They would cut his wrists to see how fast he healed. They left bruises, burns, and cuts to every inch of his body, timing the process. The would repeat the ‘experiment’ in different conditions- when he was asleep, starved, frozen, shocked, beaten to the point he could no longer move or bleeding as they hung him upside down on the ceiling.

But Peter never complained. He grew to realize that if he did, May would hurt more then he ever could. He tried to take his own life- a life like this wasn’t worth living. (They made him watch as they mimicked the cuts that Peter had tried to place on his artery on Aunt May.)

She barely survived that ordeal. The worst part of it had been looking into her eyes as they basically begged _him_ for _forgiveness._ She made it seem like this was all her fault. Peter never hated himself as much as he did at that moment. Never again. Peter swore. Never again would he be that selfish.

(Peter knew that Ben wanted him to understand that some fates are worse than death, but he also knew that he never intended it to be so soon.)

.

.

It’s been very few months and Peter knew better than to speak. He knew better than to lash out. He knew better than to resist. He just knew. Ignorance is a blessing, but none for the wicked, he supposes.

Peter looked out to the small window in his room, the sky was that light grey colour again, with the tell tales of a drizzle. He just knew something bad was going to happen.

Dr. Chinuitor walked in laughing about something over the phone. “I never expected to find two diamonds at that gifted school! Can you believe that? And she was practically _begging me to take her_!” Once he noticed that Peter was watching him (though Peter was quick to lower his gaze), he smiled that much wider. “Boy, guess you have more people willing to die for you than you thought! This little girl you used to go to school with was looking for you! Isn’t that sweet!”

_A girl? Who would want to save him? _

“You poor boy, you don’t even know! This gem and some fat child were searching for you after we erased all traces of the Parkers. Normally we wouldn’t interfere, no one believes children, but you see this, _this diamond_, was actually convincing the public you existed! And she found leads and proof of it. Such amazing stealth skills and nerves of steel!”

_Nerves of steel? Stealth skills? Oh, no. Please, please, no. _

“So you see, since she wanted to see you so much, who was I to refuse? Bring her in.”

Peter watched in completely horror as the once proud girl was dragged into the room listlessly. She had cuts and bruises covering her face but she was awake. She looked up at the doctor and the men surrounding her, before looking at Peter. “Dork.”

“Well, I’ll let you guys catch up.” And with that the two elementary kids were left alone.

“Oh, God, MJ. I am so sorry. I’m sorry. Please, please, let this all be a bad dream. Oh, God. Please.” Peter begged as he limped his way over to his friend, his hands running along the sides of her face, tracing the cuts. “What are you doing here? You need to leave here as soon as you can! You could have died!” _(Please, stay. I’m so lonely here. Don’t leave me by myself.)_

MJ watched his eyes as she chose her words carefully. “If I let them snatch people off the street, kill whoever they wanted, what’s the point of me even being alive.”

“But you’re just a kid, MJ. Kids don’t win in these kinds of situations! You shouldn’t be here!”

"You make it sound like you should be?” MJ smirked, as she raised her one brow, knowing it would irk her classmate. “Look, you’re right,” MJ cut in before Peter could speak. “Kids shouldn’t have to deal with these kinds of things. But no one cares if you’re kid or not. If you’re old enough in their eyes to get hurt, you’re old enough to fight back.”

“Heroes fight back, MJ. They fight the bad guys and win. Not us. We aren’t heroes.”

“I’m no hero, believe me when I say I’ll never be a hero. But I guess just you for and just this once, I might as well be.”

.

.

Peter knows it’s been years since MJ went to save him. To save a boy she barely knew because it was the right thing to do. And no one anywhere could convince her the task was too great for her eight year old self.

Sometimes it the weather like this that makes him remember. After all, he knows as he watches the clouds cover the sky and begin to drizzle lightly, he could never forget.


	2. "She kept her tears to herself, but she buried a piece of her heart with them."

Michelle Jones never let her emotions rule her mind. She always preferred to follow cold hard facts because, if nothing else, she knew whatever happened wasn’t because she wasn’t thinking right.

She had grown into an impeccable wall; a fortress that she wouldn’t let anyone through but her boys. Sometimes she would think back to when they became hers. Not to become overwhelmed, or dwell on things she couldn’t change, but to add another layer of armor on her fortress.

.

MJ would never admit under any circumstances, regardless of how many years have passed, that she never truly meant to caught up in this secret organization. It would break Peter's heart to know that when she first came looking for him, it was more out of a curiosity that she couldn’t let go of.

There was a boy in her class that couldn’t even give a proper high five to Ned, another shy kid in class who beyond his grade even though he skipped a year. A kid who couldn’t use the bolted pencil sharpener in the corner of the classroom without being extremely awkward. His glasses kept falling off and he kept tripping. But he was alright. Kind of endearing, actually. They barely talked and she liked him okay overall. But then he suddenly disappeared, and everyone acted like he was never real.

Maybe she read too many stories- watched too many conspiracies, but it still seemed surreal to her that one day, her classmate goes missing. The worst part was that the adults pretended he never existed, hushing anyone who asked about Peter. They tried to make it see like he was a figure of their imagination, but MJ doesn’t have an imagination. She never did, ever since she entered the foster system years ago. They shifted the classroom and got rid of Peter's desk, his space, to make the room look filled without his presence. But they forget that by doing that, they had to shift everyone else. MJ noticed her desk was moved over ever so slightly. So, she noticed that all the desks were moved over. But once an object is in motion, it remains in motion until its stopped or the momentum is countered by gravity. But she was a force of nature, not to be persuaded so easily.

.

So, she went looking; pretended to be sick to get off early- her foster parents didn’t care. None of them ever did. So, she made her way to where she knew the Parkers lived, with a flash camera on hand and a notebook. The camera wasn’t really hers, more like a friend's (well, a friend’s older brother, but MJ couldn’t have cared less). Skylar was a good friend to have, plus she wanted to be a journalist which made getting access to a good camera easy and a knack for writing. She even promised to help in MJ ever asked her to. She wouldn’t, instead she told Skye to stay low, (what’s the point of having backup if you manage to get everyone trapped all at once, anyway) And that she would send a copy of everything she finds to her to keep safe. But it was nice to know that someone was willing to help.

The place looked clean. Absolutely spotless, the coffee table was sitting completely blank on the right side of the couch, where the home phone sat on it. Raising the camera, she took pictures of everything that gave her a funny feeling. She walked into the kitchen and saw that there was some food laid out, and as she quietly took in the mismatched plastic cutlery on the counter, she noticed the lack of the metal ones you’d usually find. Again, it just didn’t sit right with her. She walked back to the living room and pretended that she was Peter getting up for breakfast and making himself some toast. She walked from the now empty bedroom to the kitchen, reached her closest hand to the cutlery, pretending to pick it up in her right hand since she didn’t want to contaminate the site, (she should have gotten gloves), and pretended to make some toast. As she put the pretend knife back down, it still didn’t make any more sense to her.

She knew Peter, and she had met his parents before as well. They were a loving family, chaotic, and somewhat disorganized. But she knew Peter better than the others, so she focused on Peter, remembered little details of him.

He was small, and the youngest in the class because he skipped a year. His friend was Ned, and they were absolute dorks. They even made a not so secret handshake when their high fives wouldn’t work. Flash would make fun of them for it, but they would just shrug it off every time. Peter wasn’t the most athletic of kids, he has asthma, and needed his glasses. Wait. MJ knew she picked something up, but she grazed over it. _Think, Michelle. Think. _That’s it, MJ thought as she finally remembered.

** _Their high fives wouldn’t work_ ** _ **because Peter was left-handed.**_

That’s when it clicked in her mind: they were on all left-handed. The furniture was all on the wrong side. The counter has been wiped clean for any indication of food so someone must have cleaned the counter, but they left the plastic knife on the counter instead of just getting rid of it. They wouldn’t have bothered with plastic cutlery if they were planning on keeping it.

Taking a deep breath in, MJ let it go forcing it to take her emotions with it. Something was wrong and she was going to figure out what, fear would not control her. Something told her to take the back door out instead of the front, an ominous feeling that someone, _something_, was waiting on the front of the apartment buildings.

Taking the fire exit, MJ snuck around the walls and garbage cans until she could make it safely to the busy street. That ominous feeling came back as her focus kept sticking to the streetlamp. It was also wrong. So, incredibly wrong.

Once she started to focus on it, she noticed the faint smell of iron. Everything fell into a strange kind of perspective where she became hyper aware of everything; numbers and colours jumping in front of her. She wasn’t sure she could turn it off is she wanted to but was sure she wouldn’t even if she could.

The cement was newly washed, like there was a rainstorm, but it was only in that one street. Looking closely, she could make out bits and pieces of a rust colour in the grooves of the sidewalk. It didn’t take a genius to realize it was blood.

That ominous feeling came rushing back over to her. She needed to get out of here and soon. Very soon. But she couldn’t force herself to leave without some sample of the blood on the sidewalk. Knowing that it was long shot with very little time left to escape, she inhaled again and exhaled all of the emotions bubbling inside of her. _Think of something mundane, like it’s probably lunch time now at school. Anything to calm the mind._

Within seconds she tore her backpack off and pulled out a handkerchief with the school logo on it before scraping as much evidence as she could before pocketing and making her getaway.

“Psst! MJ over here!” There, across the street was a girl with long brown hair in a high ponytail waving her over on her bike.

“Skye.” Relief washed over her as she quickly got on the back of the bike before Skye sped off to the other direction, making sure not to go by the front entrance. “What are you doing here?”

“Though you could use a ride, M.”

MJ didn’t respond to that. Instead she kept looking over her shoulder. Something was coming and it was coming fast. She was quick to turn back around and the two sped away.

.

If MJ had to cry over someone (is she absolutely had to, and didn’t know what Peter was going through), she’d cry for Ned. The boy was completely heartbroken. Everyday he would search for Peter, his ‘imaginary friend’. People told him he was insane, that he lost his mind. The verbal abuse became physical as even his own parents tried to restrain him. The kids at school all became cruel to him. How can kids her age, and that always been shelter from worst of the society say things to become the very thing adults tried to shelter them from (sometimes, she still wonders about it). But Ned wasn’t listening over the thunder of his own heart ringing in his ear. Sometimes, as she watched him quietly enough, she could hear his heart crack a little more each day.

It’s been weeks since Peter has gone missing, but nothing was being done with it. MJ, as much as she absolutely hates took admit this, is only eight years old; classifying her legally as a child. There isn’t anything she can do with how this is working out for her. She had no leads, no way to check if the blood belongs to Peter or anything.

Worst of all, she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t speak to Ned. He clearly needed someone to talk to, but she was afraid that she would only hurt him by telling him what she knows. Then again, she could be killing Peter by not reaching out. MJ made sure to think over the options before coming to a conclusion, taking a different route home.

.

“Somethings wrong with the school,” was the very first thing Ned said when she sat beside in at lunch one day. “It’s too much; too much money, investments, the courses are so advanced. It’s too much.”

“You noticed, huh?” MJ sipped on her grape juice as she thought about how it was so odd that this school, for children, invested so much for potential but not teach a grade above grade seven. Spending so much time, energy and resources for gifted children that excelled far beyond their years to just sudden quit seemed _odd_. 

“Do you still have your class picture with Peter?” Neither mentioned that they kept the class photo hidden, knowing if they mentioned having it someone would destroy it. “You wanna compare it to the class picture that’s hung in the hallway? Tell me what you find, okay?”

Fear, MJ thought as she listened to the undertone Ned spoke with. He must have figured something out that frightened him. “Yeah, okay.”

Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the lunch. The sounds of chewing and swallowing answering the silence.

.

The next day, MJ brought the photo with her (she made a copy she left at home just in case something happened to the original). It was during an assembly where she asked to be excused to use the bathroom (since most people would still be in the lecture hall) when she went to compare the pictures.

All the kids were sitting on the outside bench with the autumn setting behind them, smiling at the camera. Things were simpler than. The picture on the hallway looked similar, and yet not the same. She quickly pulled the picture up against the wall to compare them. After a minute, she finally realized that the shadows and lighting didn’t match up- the picture must have been altered at some point.

But that shouldn’t have even surprised Ned, let alone scared him like he was the other day. It wasn’t until MJ looked at the other pictures did her truly feel the fear of what Ned must have realized.

Some of the older pictures where altered as well and others weren’t.

Deciding she has been gone too long, MJ went back to the assembly, sitting beside Ned. “This isn’t the first time that someone has gone missing from this school.”

“Nor is it the first time trying to hide it either.”

.

Things moved in a blur since then. It was surreal, and a childish part of her felt it was like they were superheroes. They were going to save the damsel in distress (Peter) and come back and everything would happily ever after. Ned and Peter would the dorks that MJ grew fond of, maybe she would hang out with them more as well.

But it never works out like that. This isn’t a fairy-tale and she must definitely be a hero. There isn’t a story about a princess where a knight saves her from a dragon. No, in her story, she was the dragon.

With Skye’s help, they got a lot of evidence that they referenced and has pretty solid proof that Peter did in fact exist. Ned and MJ got the proof, Skye wrote the headlines. It was good start.

(Even to this day, MJ thinks to why it never occurred to her that all this digging about would catch up with them. Because it did and there’s a part of her that won’t ever forgive herself for it.)

.

It was about a month after she and Ned figured out that kids disappearing from their school was normal when MJ noticed that she had a shadow. Stubborn as she was, she knew that it would only be a matter of time. These people took a kid away in plain sight, and yet no one questions them or the missing family about their disappearance. They made it seem like the Parkers never existed.

So, what better coverage then to hide in plain sight. They published the journal Skye wrote. There were pictures, though while they didn’t have a lot, they were able to make ones they did have enough to convince the public. They didn’t have the truth, but they never needed a whole truth. Just enough to sell a lie, which was surprisingly very little truth all in all. (MJ wasn’t sure if it reassured her or made her distrust for the general public grow.)

They proved Peter was real, and he went to their school. Everything else could have been from a novel off a cereal box for all she cared. It got the public’s attention and that was all she ever needed.

The trick to doing so was pretty simple. They made the school look like the victim by stating that they were being targeted. Once it was known that Peter did exist and he was now missing – his whole family was missing, they couldn’t deny it either. Skye let them use her class picture (Ned and MJ, even though she didn’t know why, wanted to keep their picture close and safe) to publish and experts confirmed the picture wasn’t tempered with.

They made such a fuss in the media since MJ made sure to hit the populated places, that everyone knew her face. If she were to disappear then someone would notice.

She thought she was safe. That nothing could harm her if she was in a public place. How wrong she was.

.

A month after they declared a self-imposed war on whatever was going on Ned started acting weird. He became paranoid and kept saying that something was following him. Sometimes he would call her up in the middle of the night to tell her that someone was staring at him outside his window.

At first, she told him that maybe someone was keeping an eye on them and that was the reason he felt that way, but the paranoia grew. He couldn’t allow himself to calm down. He was jumping at every little shadow. He mentioned that there was a strange lady that kept following him, when asked what she looked like, Ned would never be able to give her an answer. Just that she had eyes like burning coal.

Maybe if she played attention she would have realized that was the beginning of Ned’s decedent into madness. During their interviews on live television, Ned would jump up screaming to the high heavens that “she stop following” him, and that he knows she “took Peter”.

It took them two weeks to lose all of their creditability.

MJ went to watching everyone’s back. Ned was never the same after that. He kept saying that “she” was following him. And that if he was good, she wouldn’t hurt him (but Ned was never really good, since he kept screaming at the supposed corner the woman with the burning eyes was to give Peter back safely. He wouldn’t rest until he was back).

At first she thought that he was losing his mind, but if only she had looked closer, she would realize that his eyes weren’t constricting anymore, always focused on something that moved very slowly.

(There were warning signs, she just didn’t know what they were. What she did see, she knew were indications of something. Years later, she promised to herself that ignorance will never be a mistake she’d make again.)

.

No matter how methodical she was, there was some things that would slip from her fingers. She thought they were targeting Ned, but they weren’t. Ned was the distraction they needed to get to her other friend.

Skye went missing and MJ didn’t know where she was. Within the first twelve hours of her gone missing, she knew she was looking for a body. Skye wouldn’t be coming home. Not now, not ever.

Three weeks later they found her drowned by the river. She had needle punctures on her arms as if she was been injecting herself with something. The autopsy came back stating she had overdosed on methamphetamine, which she has been taking for weeks, fell and drowned.

MJ saw her arms as she had all but ran to the site when news broke Skye's body was found; the angle of the needle sites was wrong. Blatantly wrong. She didn’t inject herself with anything. The police officer wouldn’t believe her, so she didn’t say a word to them. The puncture wounds were made to mock her. As if to say_, what can you do about it?_

With one of her friends spiraling into a manic state and the other a child drug addict statistic, no one believed anything they said anymore.

To be fair, she didn’t know what to believe anymore either. She wanted to be a hero and save Peter, but never at the risk of someone else’s life.

(Even in present time, when Peter would visit his family in the graveyard, she would come visit Skye. She would tell her about everything has happened, how because of her they were able to stop the mess they found themselves in. MJ would allow herself to act like she was still here, and they were having a conversation. She would tell her about Team Spidey, and Ironman and how superheroes were real (I know right?).

On some of the darker days, MJ would tell her that she was sorry because she wouldn’t get to grow older than eight and a half. That no matter what she thought back then, they were just children. She wouldn’t get to stay up all night planning what she wanted to be to when she grew up. She robbed the world of the person Skye would have been if she had a chance to truly grow. If she could be braver than most people she knew at second grade, with a wet laugh, MJ wonders what kind of person she would have been now, or even in a few years after they all graduated university and became young adults.

Most of all, MJ would ask for forgiveness because after everything she been through, she was still so selfish. She was selfish because she was glad that she had met her. She was glad that they were friends. Even if that was what killed her in the end.)

.

She never gave up though. Because she owed it to Skye to clear her name. To bring those that did this to her to justice. Because even though they killed her, she was the one to involve her in this.

The problem wasn’t that she wanted to save Peter or Skye. The problem was that she wasn’t the hero type. And she accepted that. She would be a fire that engulfed everything around her. She would burn everything she laid touch to, if it meant they would burn as well. Misery loved company, after all.

.

A week later MJ distanced herself from Ned, and just as she predicted, he was slowly getting better without her near by.

Her foster parents gave up on her and sent her back. The last thing she got Ned to do was make it look like she official left the state. She refused to go back to the system. It was hard at first because where would she go? She hid at the parks, the library after hours, and tried new places every other day. But it became frightening because she _knew _it wasn’t enough.

Just when she was about to admit defeat, she stumbled on a goldmine of security, communication network, and people she could trust. She had officially met the homeless community. The first thing the man in tattered old jeans and t shirt, Pops as he is called, said her was “I believe you.” She remembers asking why, why did he believe her when no one else would.

(“Because, we are the forgotten; the exploited and detested. We disappear faster then anyone else. So, why can’t anyone else?”

Weeks later, she understood. The woman her old classmates addressed as “crazy lady with the cats” was named Martha. She had postpartum psychosis and ended up killing her child. It drove her to madness; she lost her job, family support and friends alike. She loved those cats like she would her own child.

Three days later, she went missing and even to this day, no one knows where she went.

A month later a new family with a young child joined and MJ watched as woman in her late sixties offered the half-eaten bun to the child when the family grew hungry.

A few days later she died of hunger. But it wasn’t the end, the more she saw the more she wished she didn’t. Or the more she wished it wasn’t real. No one mourned for their deaths.

So, she did something that she promised she would never do. She let her heart bleed for them. She kept her tears to herself, but she buried a piece of her heart with them.

One day, MJ promised herself. One day.)

Until she forced herself to move forward. (What else could she have done? Another set of parents didn’t want her, but the heck was she leaving like this.) Then she went hunting. She went after people she knew to be involved.

Once you know something is wrong, it wasn’t hard to focus on it. She targeted the school staff. It frightened her to realize that no one had officially ever left the school, never moved away or left. Just disappeared. She could understand why Ned was so unsettled when he figured it out. So, she memorized any and every name that was been enrolled into the school and disappeared later on. If it were teachers she was after, she would key the car side a name. The full name of a missing child that had been enrolled into the school when they had been staffed to work there.

MJ started to with the most recent (excluding Peter) and started her way backwards. As if to say “I know your dirty little secret. Just how far back do I know?”.

Some teachers were shocked, others scared but most of all, no one was confused or surprised. They did know who the children were. Just didn’t expect to see any of their names come back again.

.

Ned had been really sweet throughout the whole thing; he would leave food and blankets around public areas for her. They left codes for each other to figure out, like moving a stray garbage can a certain way, or using chalk to colour one of the benches in the park to communicate to one another. But she knew that she wasn’t actually a law abiding citiz1en anymore. So, when she knew Ned wasn’t home, she snuck in the window he always left open for her and took something from his desk.

She never got to say goodbye to him. But she knew that Ned was terrible at saying goodbye. This was the only mercy she could have given him.

.

Of course, she knew that if she pushed, then someone would push her back. But that was the point. She wanted to know would come. She wanted to know who would come after her.

It wasn’t a shock to anyone that someone from the school came after her. She thought it would have been the principal, but it wasn’t. It was the head of house cleaning. Someone that no one paid any attention, worked there for years without needing any form of a background check. They could have been anywhere at all with the access they had to the school and no one would question it. It was quite clever, she had to admit.

.

The confrontation was anticlimactic as she was quickly overpowered (again, she cursed the fact she was not even nine and tiny). She wondered if they would kill her now or hurt her first.

The answer was simple. She found herself awake in a dark room underground somewhere (the air felt stale and mechanical at best). In front of her was a man tied up to a chair with a blindfold on. He was awake and clearly crying, begging for someone to save him. (Little did he know that heroes don’t exist here, instead he was stuck with a fire more fierce then anything else.)

A voice picked up, though she couldn’t tell from where it originated from. “Michelle Jones. Nice to meet you, little lady.” The voice was gleeful as it practically sung on the radio. “I’ve been watching you for some time, now. I’m amazed. Truly. So, let’s cut straight to business, shall we? If you look beside you there’s a gun. Shoot the man in front of you or else I’ll kill his wife.” An image appeared on the far wall of a woman tied up and blindfolded; the man could be heard crying louder. “You have two minutes.”

Slowly MJ reached beside her without actually looking. The shock of cold metal forced an involuntary shiver to run down her arm. Once she looked at the weapon, she couldn’t make herself look away. Was she actually supposed to kill someone?

The timer started counting down at thirty seconds left, but MJ knew she couldn’t. With a sigh, she tossed the gun aside. “No.” Panic was rushing to her veins, (don’t feel, think Michelle. _Think)_.

The reply was instantaneous. “Why? Is your moral code stopping you? Is that why you won’t? If you don’t, then I’ll kill him and his wife. Hurry up. You have 20 seconds left.”

She didn’t respond. She wouldn’t kill someone just because someone said too. Besides, they were probably lying anyways. They wouldn’t, would they?

A honk blared as the allotted two minutes ended. The rope surrounding the ran suddenly raised, to suspend him in mid air, effectively hanging the man. MJ shot off her feet to aide the man; trying to hold his feet up so he wouldn’t suffocate. But he was too heavy, and her arms couldn’t hold him anymore. She tried to put his feet on her shoulders as a replacement, but after ten minutes, the weight of his body was straining her back. She didn’t let go. She refused to.

So instead the rope pulled higher until she simply couldn’t ease the pressure off his neck. (She never forgot the sound he made as he choked out a cry. How he convulsed in front of her. It didn’t make her depressed. It didn’t plague her heart. It became another thorn on her crown.)

“Now,1 where did your mortals get you? Instead of one person dying, two are dead. Oh, wait.” The screen focused back on the man’s wife. A bullet could be heard, and the crying woman was eerily quite afterwards. Not that MJ would have noticed it from the crimson that was pooling by her feet. “There. Now two people are dead because of you. Let’s try again, shall we?”

(MJ had to keep telling herself that it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t _her_. She didn’t tie the rope; she didn’t hang the man or shoot the woman. **_It wasn’t her_**. She’s not to sure it helped her, but she was able to breathe again. So, she’ll count that as a win until things get better.)

.

MJ never told anyone that she had killed before. It was just once but she would never forget how the light died in her eyes. She knew Peter wouldn’t have killed the **woman**; he was too sweet, too innocent for something like this; a light during these times. But she could be the darkness that surrounds him. That protects him and hides the ugly truths on the shadows that Peter cannot bare.

When the second time she was forced to take a life, she had someone hold a gun to her head and set a kid, _just like her_, tied up in front of her. Even behind the blindfold, her messy red hair was wrapped up in a messy bun, strands whisked about her face. A gun in her hand as well. The kid was crying out for her mother and for a second, she wondered if Skye cried before she died.

The person behind her didn’t say a word, just clicked the gun to the ready. The girl kept crying, begging for forgiveness, or mercy. It was hard to tell. But MJ wasn’t listening. There wasn’t a point. She knew very well that this time, she couldn’t save the kid. Not the way a hero could. _But she didn’t care_.

MJ was so full of rage; she never wanted this. She just wanted her somewhat friend back, she wanted to be safe at home with family that could at least tolerate her, she wanted to go back dreaming about God knows what she used to dream about anymore. How could anyone be expected to deal with any of this. To have a gun put to their head and a gun on their hands. The weight was unbearable as the cool metal stung her skin.

This was too much. Everything was too much. It doesn’t whatever what she did at this point, because the MJ she was before all this will die right here and now. But she doesn’t need to die alone.

With all the fury and self-righteous hate coursing through her veins, MJ lifted her gun, turned around and shot the person behind her in the chest. But it wasn’t enough. She kept shooting until she ran out of bullets. Once she came back to her senses, her heard the girl screaming behind her.

Forcing herself away from the corpse she turned around to untie the child, wrapping her arms around her as she spoke quietly into her ear; you never know who could be listening. “What’s your name and how long have you been missing?”

“Emme and about eleven hours. I’m eleven.”

“Okay, so listen closely to me, Emme. You’re going to go home. I promise you but stay missing for at least another day or so. Three days max so everyone knows you’ve been kidnapped. It’s next to impossible that a kid gets kidnapped twice at random. It never happens. Go to the Central Park at midnight. You’ll meet a man names Pops. Tell him I sent you and that you need to stay hidden for a couple of days.” MJ stopped looking at the girl in front of her, opting to look at the face of the life she ended.

It was a woman, late twenties with blonde hair and brown eyes. MJ watched as the light dimmed in those brown eyes, and ugly voice at the back of her mind smiled through its fangs; _Good. Stay dead._

There was a sense of power, and peace that came knowing that woman was dead- that she was the one to kill her. There was also remorse, but MJ refused to acknowledge that. She picked up the discarded gun and turned to give it to other kid.

“I, um, didn’t catch your name…?” Emme stuttered as she forced her voice to steady. But she took the gun, anyways without hesitation. (MJ let the realization of what that meant add another hairline fracture to her bleeding heart.)

“If we ever meet again out of this place, ask me then.”

.

Turns out they were in an abandoned warehouse a few blocks away from the busier areas. That was okay, though, because the police had to be on their way soon with the gunshot sounds coming from the area. It was late night so neither of them felt too exposed in the light.

Since both girls were afraid to use the main doors they snuck out the windows until they reached the streets. Neither said a word as they climbed down, both in a shock- one for killing someone, the other for surviving.

Once Emme reached the ground she pulled her tattered old sweater over her head as she reached out to give it to MJ. “Take this,” smiling when it was accepted. “I know you won’t take anything for a thank you and whatever. But I can tell you what secrets I know. The school we go to? Momentum Primary School? They breed kids young. Like, really young. They then sell them off to the highest bidder. I was supposed to be sold to some agency, but they weren’t so impressed with me.” It was clearly hard for Emme to keep eye contact with her, so MJ tried her best to look away as well. “I can stay, you know.”

“I know, but don't,” (_Please don’t die. Not for me.) _

.

Of course, shooting the person back in warehouse would have consequences, and she had resigned herself to them. There wasn’t anywhere she could go. Not a lot of places for a child caught up un some villain story to be safe. So, she waited and watched Emme disappear into the night.

(She burned the sight into memory. That was her moment of truth, even if they did stop her from escaping or killed MJ tonight- nothing would change that fact that little unwanted MJ saved someone.)

It was twenty minutes or so when someone finally came to get her. Its wasn’t a nice confrontation or an informant one either; just a bunch of guys in all black suits, black cars and with their face covered (with- surprise- all black cloth) came out of no where. (That’s all MJ could remember of it, getting confront with black figures and getting heavily beaten. She remembers being afraid, but she is over that. Now, she’s the one to feared. She kind of likes how trivial that night is now.)

She passed out after one brutal kick to the head had her head slamming onto the concrete. When she woke up, she met Dr. Chinuitor.

“I must say I am surprised! Two diamonds in the rough in the same year. You just made my week.” There was something so sadistic and clinical of the smile he wore. Like he saw right through her. “I have such big plans for you. Oh, little lady, I hope you know that it was very sweet that you saved the other lab rat. I have a question I want you to answer very carefully.”

When MJ didn’t respond he retrieved a small knife from his pocket as he pulled her hand towards him. He made a deep cut into the crease of her palm (knowing the cut would pull should she try to use the hand). “You’ll learn to answer when asked a question, yes?” Slowly, MJ nodded her head, it seemed to appease the man enough. “So, the question is: what does it tell you, when an organization of assassins haven’t managed to kill you in two and a half months?” Blood loss was weighing heavily on MJ as she looked like she barely understood a word he said. “It means they were never trying to actually kill you at all. Don’t think for a second that it was _because of you_ that you got this far.”

.

The next few hours were a blur to her. She kept swimming in and out of unconsciousness. The pain of whatever he was doing made it hard to think, to remember. Finally, she just gave up and let herself stay under. (They marked her with a tattoo on her left shoulder. It was a simply marking of a black and white little black flower. She never did find out the meaning behind the tattoo.)

Eventually, they hauled her in to see Parker. It baffled her to see how _absolutely torn_ he was. Every inch of him looked bruised, his bones jutting out awkwardly, his cheeks hollow. But his eyes. They looked so inexplicably sad, but they still held every bit of kindness she remembered. “Hey, dork.”

.

It was two weeks in, and MJ could barely stomach what they did to Peter. Something was clearly wrong with the boy since she could visibly see him healing – which shouldn’t be possible at all. But he refused to speak anymore. Even when they threw both of them into a cold cell at night, he didn’t speak after the initial day. She would hide the food they gave her, which was much more than they gave Peter, and she would give it to him. (That lovable idiot would politely refuse and try to give it back to her, but she would get fed up and feed it to him. _Idiot, just that the only small act of kindness._ That dork.) It was three days in when MJ found out about May. Oh God, that poor woman was still alive, but she was so thin and beaten black and blue. Nothing of the woman she saw at the last parent teacher interviews.

No, that wasn’t right. She still looked at Peter like he hung the sun and moon in the sky, brightened the stars at night and all that. Huh, that must be true parental love. Peter did almost anything they asked him to do, but he would always refuse the order when it came to Peter to hurting her. He wouldn’t even raise his hand to her, instead he would cry. He would beg May to forgive him _because he just couldn’t._

One time, when they were distracted about something or another, MJ snuck by close to where May was in a wheelchair (she was so weak that they didn’t even have to bound her anymore). “I’ll protect him the best I can for you. Until you can do it yourself again. Promise.” With a sarcastic sense of humour, MJ linked their pinky fingers together before letting go and moving back to where she was before. Ever since that, May would look at MJ, actually look at her. There was so any emotions in May’s eyes, but the one that stood out the most of a protectiveness. (She didn’t realize it then, but May accepted and loved MJ like her own child).

(Next when Peter was given a knife and told to hurt her, MJ would slowly take his hand, wrapping his fingers around the handle and bring it up to her arm. She would smile at him and told him it’s okay. That they would probably hurt her even worse if he didn’t (that must have been the wrong thing to say since he cried even more). She would guide his hand to make cuts across upper arms where no one but her would see. It was fine. MJ could be the one to make hard decisions, anything to save Peter.

.

Peter stopped responding to everything after that, but when she held his hand and squeezed, he would squeeze back. She would hold him in the night. Tell him stories of how they searched for him- how Ned at this very moment was probably searching him. That he was loved beyond belief. She made promises she knew she couldn’t keep- “I’ll keep you safe,” “Everything will be alright,” or “We’ll make it out of this alive, you have my word,”; anything and everything to make sure that Peter didn’t give up. She wasn’t sure why, she knew that if Peter gave up now, there would be no saving him.

There were days that they made her run for hours to build up stamina, they taught her how to fight hand-to-hand, and they taught her how hide in the shadows. She was never the most athletic person- she couldn’t run very fast or for long distances. Not like how they wanted her to be. She was pretty good in learning how to fight, though, but hiding was her greatest advantage. They changed her specialty to infiltration and IT.

She learned how to drive, and she excelled in it in every form; they thought it was she was naturally talented, but the truth was that it gave her a sense of freedom and she became addicted to the high it brought her. So, she made sure she was good enough that they would allow her to continue. After months training, forced submission and regular tortures sessions where they reminded her that they were the ones in control (where sometimes she would lose her mind completely, a complete blank in her memories during those times), she was deemed ready enough.

They had sent her out on her first mission (using Peter as a hostage to make sure she came back reporting only success). The task was simple enough- she had to steal a certain suitcase off a lawyer that was investigating them. But she messed up.

.

It a dark night and all she had to do was drive by on her motorcycle and snatch the suitcase from a blind lawyer. She should have known it wouldn’t that easy, considering the man was blind and still very successful in his career. As she drove in to snatch the suitcase, the man had practically yanked her off her seat, letting the motorcycle crash ahead. There was a bone chilling fear that ran through MJ as she struggled to get out of his grip.

“Who are you?” His voice deep and baritone; it echoed in her head for days to come. She never answered, just slipped out of her sweater as she landed on the ground. She made a dive for the suitcase, touching the handle before it was taken out of her grip. “They’re sending a child to do their dirty work now?”

Desperation clawed up her spine as she realized how out of her league she was. This wasn’t some typical lawyer that she could startle enough to drop his stuff, where she could pick it up and run. Tears formed behind her eyes as she thought what they would do to her. They would hurt Peter so bad because of this. Maybe even kill her. She forced a sob back, but she was sure he heard it anyways.

The man didn’t bother say anything else as he made quick movements to secure the child in his arms, feeling the tremors wreaking havoc on her small frame. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

“No, it not.” MJ snapped, speaking for the first time. (My friend is going to torn apart and I am going to die because I couldn’t get your stupid case. Doesn’t that sound so stupid when said out loud, MJ thought.) Though she kept the last part to herself, the man must have understood.

“Okay,” Instead he reached over MJ to grab his bag and pulled some files out. “I cannot give you the case, but I can compromise. How about this, you take the case now. If they ask you about it, say you don’t know what was in the case. Will that work?”

MJ wanted to believe it. She so desperately wanted the relief to be real, but she was _scared_. What if they found out? What would they do to her? But here she was, a child groomed for less then two months in being a spy against someone clearly out her orbit. So, she nodded her consent, praying he was being honest with her. He helped her up and gave her the suitcase. Giving her space, he let her get her motorcycle.

Before she drove off, MJ looked back at him. “Michelle Jones, my friends call me MJ.” And she drove off into the night, not bothering to stay in case he said anything in response.

“Matt Murdock.” The lawyer responded anyways into the night. 

.

(That night, Peter held her as her body quivered in pain in his arms [they wouldn’t hurt Peter this time, they wouldn’t kill her either, but they firmly believed she could have done better]. He told her that she was so brave, that she was amazing and that he was so lucky to have her in his life at all. He told her that the world was a better place because she was trying and had tried. That he trusted her with his world.)

.

But as all good things, it came to an end. They separated the two of them (years later, realizing that they were only together so they could get attached to one another, thus a willing hostage whenever needed), she was drafted into the Nightmare program. She rarely saw Peter after that. She later vowed to learn everything she could, so one of these days, she’ll be able to escape. She’d take Peter with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is how MJ met Matt (he will be back later- probably when I get a better handle for his character). 
> 
> What do you guys think?
> 
> Please comment and review! It means a lot to me :) 
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read my stories!


	3. "He just wanted to finally be the one to take aim instead of being the target"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so a lot of crazy things happened over the last couple of months. I got a job and moved out on my own. Got engaged! and a lot of other little things inbetween.

Ned wished he was something cooler. His best friends were amazing- Spiderman and Dahlia. And all he was some guy with a chair. Even the name sounded kind of lame; kind of like him.

If he thought really hard about it, analyzed the situation he wouldn’t even be on the same side of the justice system. He would also be an international threat, if not a wanted criminal if they only knew of all the things he has done and recognized that isn’t even the tip of what he is capable of now. Apparently, a guy with a chair makes for an international threat. But that is just what he is.

Most of all, Ned knows and embraces that he is a liar. There isn’t a day he doesn’t lie to someone's face because that is all he has ever known, or for long enough.

There are somethings Ned would never tell the others. Secrets he will take to his grave, because telling them would only hurt those he cares about. He won’t tell Peter how life was like when he first disappeared, and what they did to him. How it still haunts him today. He won’t tell MJ how much he depended on her and how he fell apart when she went missing. It would completely selfish of him to tell them that now. They would feel as though they _let him down_, but Ned couldn’t have that. So, he never uttered a word, a sound or a grimace.

He still sees her, the lady in white; she would still stalk him during the night, and sometimes even in the day (he isn’t safe. He never will be). He knows he told_\- promised- _MJ that it was all over and he didn’t still see her creeping up on him sometimes, and that if he did, he would tell her right away; but MJ is a fighter. She’d fight for him, to find his peace, to save him. But he was just so tired of watching her carry all of the scars- his, Peter’s and even May's on her back (each one clawing deeper as they inch towards her heart). He was so afraid that one day the weight of all their nightmares would suffocate her. God knows Peter is walking on a thread, miles above the ground- telling him would only unbalance Peter. And he will not lose him again. Not even over his corpse will anyone hurt Peter again. No, by the time that it’s Ned’s time to go, he will leave a footprint so deeps that his loved ones- his very core; Peter, MJ, May, and Matt- will be safe with his legacy.

So, he lied. He lied to MJ as he smiled in response to her concerned glances. He would laugh easily when she would furrow her eyebrows. He would reassure her when she finally had enough and asked him.

.

Ned would stay back from the graveyards visits since his demons weren’t dead. He never found a reason to go (until he did). His demons were very much alive and roaming around in his daily life. They were the kind he would never dare to address, but how do you even address complete and utter isolation and abandonment?

How does Ned even begin to explain the pain that made residence so deep into his bones that he feels it every time he tries to go about his daily life? His parents, the people he loved as naturally as he breathed, abandoned him? And yet they acted like nothing happened, like everything was perfect between the Leeds, like this façade wasn’t a noose around Ned's neck. Like it wasn’t tightening against his throat, like he couldn’t feel the rope push against his Adam’s apple whenever he tried to swallow the angry words waiting to lash out. _Like it didn’t cut off another vein on his slowing heart._

.

“NED! BABY listen to me. THERE IS NO SUCH PERSON NAMED PETER PARKER!” Josephine cried as she held her son, forcing herself not to shake the child out of his madness. “You need to stop!”

“But, Mum, he _is_ real! People don’t just disappear out of nowhere!” Ned hissed as he tried to pry his mother’s fingers off his shoulders, but her grip was too strong, and it dug into him. She only held on tighter. “Mum, you’re hurting me. Let go!”

Ned doesn’t understand why no one would believe him. Peter was real. Peter was his best friend; they did everything together. Sure, his parents were new immigrants and were both working really hard and never actually met Peter, but they let him go to Peter’s house all the time (especially if they were both working late). They had to remember. “Why don’t you believe me!” Ned couldn’t stop the tears that fell after that. Peter, the boy that was the first person to see him. To be his friend. To actually see something in Ned that no one else could. And he was just gone; out of existence.

“Boy, if I hear another word about this, you’ll regret it!” His father yelled, having heard this conversation several times now. “The neighbours all think you’re crazy! Is that what you want, boy!” His father raised his hand towards the boy, only to be stopped a few centimeters from his face, his wife clutching his hand as she forced Ned away from them. She would cry out and tell his father under no circumstance would she ever allow anyone to hurt her baby. Sometimes his father would listen. Sometimes he wouldn’t. Sometimes the blows he meant for Ned would stay dormant on his mother for days afterwards. His father would beg her for forgiveness, that he never meant to hurt her, which he didn’t. She just always got in between at the last moment.

But sometimes, Ned would stay awake drawing a map of all the different colours that littered his skin, the swelling on his face, and he would think to himself, yeah, that really did just happen. It has to be worse for Peter since no one ever disappears into thin air because they went to Disneyland, and also because he needed to know that someone somewhere needed him. He needed to know- the validation- that there was something bigger than him, Peter and maybe MJ (she’s been acting weirder than normal). He would just imagine all things Peter was going through. And Ben and May. He imagined that at least they have each other right now. Ben wasn’t his father, heck he wasn’t even Peter’s dad, but he was one heck of a guy. Nothing, and he knew full well that nothing would hurt his family if he was still breathing. May was as fierce as she was loving; she would move mountains for her family. Ned never understood what that meant until she welcomed him into her family- Ben and May both have treated him like they treated Peter. Peter was in good hands, Ned would think. He was safe with them. Peter was safe with them because no one could get to him through between the both of them. The thought lulled him to sleep.

(Those nights were some of Ned’s best for the next few months.)

.

The kids at school were cruel to him. The teachers sneered at him when they thought it wouldn’t be too obvious, but Ned knew. He knew very well when his test grades dropped by twenty percent. He knew his answers were right. He knew well in advance that he did everything he could to keeps his grades up, and if nothing else, to keep his family happy.

He understood why his father was so angry at him- he really did understand. It was because he was scared of losing him. They weren’t the most well received people in Queens- people still had the nerve to come harass him and his family for speaking another language when they went grocery shopping. People still harassed his parents for “stealing” their jobs. They stated that they didn’t pay tax and were undocumented immigrants.

But that wasn’t true. They were rich enough to tax, but they weren’t poor enough to get aide (once they could apply for it in a few years). His mother was a barmaid and his father a janitor. Were these really the jobs those people wanted? They had trying to get in ever since Ned was three years old. They applied and it took them five and a half years to get here.

It didn’t matter, because as far as his family was concerned- they were faceless. But it left a lasting distrust in his father, a deep burning that no one would help them because they weren’t from here. They would never fit in. (But the Parkers welcomed them with open arms and a heart full of a love and understanding. That’s why he can’t just let them go.)

So, Ned realized that this part of the fight was his, and he would have to deal with it alone. He kept his eyes and ears open. He couldn’t really do much with his parents putting him on lockdown; picking him up from the school head office and walking him to class. But he would wonder the halls and stare the pictures on the hallways of the classes. He would watch them with mute emotions. The smiling faces of kids that came and when. Bright futures written on youthful pictures. He wondered what ever happened to the kids afterwards.

He let himself dwell on that for a few days (anything to get his mind off of the way things were now). By the end of the lunch hour, Ned came to the conclusion that he didn’t know what came of the children that graduated from here. None of them made it big. He didn’t know why, but that left a sour taste in his mouth. Not one person came out of this ridiculously well funded school were they practically made you jump through hoops to get into. Nothing notable came afterwards.

So, Ned decided to look into later on his secret mobile phone (he had two because he was able to refurbish one he got from the dumpster, and the one his parents got him). He spent hours hacking into ill secured files to find out. Not a single thing came up.

The thing was, if they never got the prodigy they wanted from the program- how was it so well funded? Who would fund something with no results for over a decade? Besides, it only went to seventh grade. What good were a bunch of smart for their age twelve-year-old? Shouldn’t they be focusing more on high school students, so when they graduated they could go to a good university and excel there? It didn’t make any sense.

Ned found himself staring longingly into the pictures in the hallways since he couldn’t stay in class when the other kids practically drove him out every time the teachers turned their backs, and once the teachers realized this they made a point to do it more often. MJ was watching him and maybe she didn’t look at him like he was a madman. (Maybe he was just seeing things that he wanted to see. Every cloud was supposed to have a silver lining, though.)

It was strange to say the least. Something was so wrong with the pictures, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t understand why they made him feel so uncomfortable.

Then, it clicked. The voices in his head screamed; voices he had never heard before. They didn’t sound like him at all.

_(Run, you idiot. If you keep doing this, it’ll be your head that’s next.)_

_Where could I go?_ Ned really wanted to know. _Is there such a thing as a safe place? Where these people can’t touch us?_

_(no.)_

_If I leave, will I be safe?_

_(no.)_

_I guess then, I’ll stay._ For better or for worse, Ned was going to see this through.

_._

It was a few days later when MJ randomly sat beside him. He wasn’t sure if she meant well, or if he would walk away with another heartbreak. But he needed someone on his side. He needed someone else’s perspective. Without thinking, he blurted out the first thing in his mind. “Somethings wrong with the school.” Ned could practically hear his heart beating against his chest walls. “It’s too much; too much money, investments, the courses are so advanced. It’s too much.”

“You noticed, huh?” MJ sipped on her grape juice, but nothing showed on her face. She was completely void of everything and Ned feel as though he was sinking. MJ didn’t add anything else as she seemed to be somewhere in her head.

“Do you still have your class picture with Peter?” Ned pressed, _because please let this work, please let her believe me enough to prove me wrong. _Neither mentioned that they kept the class photo hidden, knowing if they mentioned having it someone would destroy it. “You wanna compare it to the class picture that’s hung in the hallway? Tell me what you find, okay?” Oh, how Ned prayed that she would come back and speak to him, but he didn’t say anything else. There was a good chance that he would drive her away. Instead he waited until she gave a curt nod. Neither said anything else as the lunch bell went off.

.

It was very next day when she confirmed his theories back to him and the dread filled him to the point it was the only thing flowing through his veins. But something about MJ made him feel like it was okay. He was lost in the middle of the sea, but MJ was his pillar; with her came a guarantee that he wouldn’t drown. (An ugly part of him was envious when he learned that she still had friends to depend on, that there were people willing to stand by her. It was years later when he realized how cruel that double edged sword truly can be; when he first heard her talking to a forgotten soul and decayed bones.)

From that point forward, everything was quick and furious, and most of all- it was real. Maybe even too real, but it always was, even if it only drawn on them now in their teenage years. Ned made sure to hack into every mainframe his phone could get into; MJ brought her old tablet which had the screen cracked that Ned was able to fix and upgrade. Ned let his studies drop at this point; he knew he wasn’t going to get the grades anymore even if he had tried to keep them up. So, he did what he could to create his very first super intelligence. He spent the time he had to learn more about the basis of the internet and created him own cyber landscape connection with his own language.

Whenever he was alone or he was picked on he learned to adapt. Since he knew that his parents would keep a close eye on him, he made sure to look through the dumpster whenever he was forced into one. As he waited for someone (who cared enough) to find him and let him out he searched for anything that could be useful. Sometimes, he didn’t even hesitate before he went searching through them; shame a distant memory when he caught MJ staring at him the first for time. He had no use for pride or dignity anymore.

It was the next day when she brought her old laptop and whatever else she could find. Sometimes he knew that she would purposefully break some of the stuff at home so she could bring it to him. He could always tell because her eyes seemed more vacant than the day before probably for whatever consequence she had to face later. (He had begged her not to, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t listen. She never did.)

Once his super-computer came up life (which was the worst and best day of his life) Ned made a marker for every single staff at that school. He made sure he was thorough. He made sure to get anyone that worked for the school even for a short period of time; especially those that have left the school after a short couple of weeks. Maybe it was due to paranoia or the need to be thorough; but Ned knew it was neither of those reason. Ned was angry, and he blamed everyone.

He made sure to watch for any and every update on missing children. He highlighted _Peter Parker_ so he would get the notification and the location of whoever asked or looked him up. He made a virus to hack into the school frame and it would sit dormant as it waited until for someone to login into a high security website and steal the credentials. He made the virus so that while it laid inactive, it would instead try to get a reading of the firewall, encrypt the skeleton, and the frequency of the web serve; surprisingly it was a much lower frequency than he first thought possible.

Once MJ and her friend (he wasn’t sure why he found her so hard to remember, but he did) came to him to form a sort of plan to force the public to be on their side, Ned readily agreed. The two girls would talk about how they could manipulate the facts to their favour, but Ned didn’t care. He just wanted to finally be the one to take aim instead of being the target.

.

It was soon after the got press attention when Ned started to feel weird. He was often locked into his room as soon as he got home with a plate of food already placed on his desk for the afternoon, and lately, neither of his parents bothered to look at him. But he kept feeling like something was in his room. It was watching him, and he didn’t know from where.

He checked the closet, the bathroom, the drawers, even the windows- but nothing. He saw nothing. A good part of him thought he was just making it up at that point. He would have continued to believe that if he hadn’t heard a shrill laugh.

It was high pitched, and it grated on his ears but there was no mistaking it. It was real. It was in his room. “have you checked under the bed?” Ned could hear long nails tapping from where he assumed was under the bed, but he didn’t dared to move. Instead he ran to his door and started to beg for his parents to unlock to the door- _to let him out_. He hit the door until his palms bruised and he screamed until his voice went hoarse. But they never even answered him (instead they argued _about_ him, how he was descending into madness. They wanted to get him help, _but they wouldn’t help him_).

Staring at the palm on his hands he allowed himself to finally understand that his parents weren’t going to come; sliding to the floor he turned so he was facing his bed. No one was going to save him; he was stuck here to face whatever it was under the sheets.

He wasn’t sure he even moved for hours to come, he just stayed staring at his bed. Someone was under his bed. They could have been under his bed when he was asleep or getting ready for school. The room suddenly became stifling as he refused to move his eyes away from his bed.

Suddenly, he remembered he wasn’t alone. He could call MJ and he knew she would come. Without breaking eye contact, Ned pulled out his secret phone, thankful that he had her on speed dial. He pressed down on “1” and he held his breath as the phone began to ring.

“Ned,” Came a cool voice. “What’s wrong?”

“MJ, there is someone under my bed, I could-” Ned froze as he nearly cried when he realized whoever was under his bed lifted the sheets _and was staring at him._

The eyes were dead, there wasn’t any way around how the listless they looked. Slowly, as if it wasn’t afraid of Ned- didn’t care less that Ned could see her come out from her hiding spot.

Her limbs were all so long that they reached well passed normal. With horror etched into every line on Ned’s face she stood at to her full height. She must have been over seven feet as she was hunched over in the room close to the ceiling, her dark hair acted like an old curtain that draped over her face, leaving only her eyes visible to Ned.

For a moment no one moved. Until it screeched, long teeth, sharpened to become fangs caught the low lighting in his room, while it made a mad dash towards Ned.

Ned dropped his phone and went back to begging to his parents to let him out. That he would behave and anything else he could promise them (but never Peter. Peter was his, perhaps even more so now).

(Somewhere away from the terrified cries of a maniac boy, two parents held each other wondering what was wrong with their son. They prayed that whatever was happening to their child would end soon. And as if their prayers were answered, the screams ended after only nearly ten minutes. The parents sighed in relief, perhaps tonight wouldn’t be too long after all.)

.

The next day Ned wouldn’t speak, he wouldn’t eat and the only person he would acknowledge was MJ. She came knocking on his window fifteen minutes after the phone call, but Ned never came to see her. She left before is parents came out.

She tried to the best of her abilities to comfort the boy, but Ned knew she was wasting her time; she couldn’t comfort him. No one could. Not when the woman in white was still following him around in plain sight yet hidden. But she wasn’t afraid to come out without so much a warning, something that Ned had learned quite well.

So, he stayed quiet. He let her follow him around, but he eyes wouldn’t stay too far from her. He knew better to take his eyes off the woman in white.

He knew he was upsetting MJ as she tried to catch his attention, but nothing worked. His focus was to keep that monster away, or at least to know where it moved. But MJ didn’t see it that way, she wanted to know what was going on (but he didn’t have the words to tell her), she and her friend were on to something and needed help (but his hands refused to work).

MJ and her friend caused a tidal wave in the media where they held the people’s attention. Soon they got asked to attend talk shows, and eventually news anchors. Sure, he came along, but he wasn’t actually there. Everything was too much and he felt his heart beating against his ribcage. There was thumping against his eardrums. There were the slivers of a white dress dancing on the corner of his vision. Whispers of what was happening to Peter, and how Ben and May were dead. MJ was staring right through him.

It was hard to focus. So very hard, so he didn’t bother to try.

.

The weeks that followed, Ned lost himself to things that weren’t there. He didn’t know what was happening around him anymore. He stopped going to school- or did his parents just pull him out- he didn’t know. His world was just a never-ending blur of the frames and fears.

It was when he was alone that his mind finally rested. The lady in white didn’t bother him as much when he was alone; he strongly doubted there was anything left in any fragment in him worth coming back to haunt him. He may be stubborn, intuitive, and a fighter. But he wasn’t a fool.

He was a defeated man.

But he was alive, so he took to himself to lick his wounded mind.

.

Someone died. Someone who was a part of his class for years. A girl that stood by him and MJ. A girl stood and died for MJ, for Peter- for _him_. And he couldn’t even remember her name. The irony of forever remembering that he forgot her.

(Little did he realize that moment, that frozen shard of his life- that he would risk everything for his friend, but he couldn’t be a friend to someone who proved to be more than friend to him. And she never asked for anything in return. Maybe it broke Ned’s heart that he _didn’t want to know_ her name now. If he let her die without a name, he would have no reason to remember her like a lost friend.

Forever a hypocrite.)

.

Ned was losing MJ. No matter what he did. How he tried to bring her closer the more of a phantom she became. He wasn’t a fool enough to realize that he gained far more clarity when she was away. But he didn’t care. What difference did it make him whether he had gone mad with whatever was tormenting him, or he was driven to insanity by what was actually happening around him.

.

She left. MJ actually left him. Her foster parents wanted to send her back, but she belonged here. Maybe not in their home; God knows she deserved better, but here in Queens. Ned felt the last of his resolve crumble after that.

He just couldn’t help himself from wanting to fall apart- how was it that even when he wasn’t the target he would always feel the bullets pierce is heart. He hacked into everything and anything to see if she would leave a digital trace anywhere. He placed a marker on her name, and every one of her nicknames. This is the second time it was happening; MJ would have been more prepared. She had to be. Right?

Ned could still taste the bile as it rose. She had to be okay.

.

The weeks and months to follow were some of his worst. He lost MJ and Skye. The girl’s name was Skye and Ned had failed her as well. He lost himself- out of complete and utter helplessness Ned blew open the school’s firewalls and leaked every file to live stream. Which made it worse was that he hacked into every channel and had it playing on repeat. (The school managed to sweep the whole scandal under the rug with a few interviews to “clear up the misunderstandings”.)

Within a week he was surrendered from his parents to a psych ward of some random hospital, where the in patients were truly a danger to themselves. The people were almost always insane- someone tried to take a bite out his arm. And yet, Ned felt safer there and he had at home. Some of the patients would even see the lady in white. Besides, one of the nurses let him keep his phone.

Ned wasn’t sure how much time had passed, eventually his phone pinged with an alert that someone had tried to Google “Michelle Jones, MJ”.

That was it. As that light lit up his cellphone’s screen, an idea crept forward. Not like he had much else to do. The lady in white doesn’t say too much nowadays, either.

.

Matt knew it as a long shot to just google who the girl was- but what other leads did he have. Besides he wasn’t too sure he could even trust some random girl- a child no less. But again, she was a child and he suppose of once, that can be enough.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s happy to see his computer get hijacked by “Some guy in a chair” (Ned was bored, and he really was sitting in a chair.) Once his computer was hacked he starts getting all these messages typed out. Which really do him little to any good, so he lets his little intruder know that he can’t see, suggesting to talk instead. To his surprise, his hacker is more hesitant.

“Either we speak, or we’re not going anywhere.” Matt probably could make do without it, but he’d like to know more. He has a bad feeling about this. The voice on the under side seemed to go quite for moment, but Matt wasn’t about to cave. MJ was in deep trouble and for better or for worse whoever was on the other end needed help. Or information, at least.

And he was right. The guy in a chair caves. What he wasn’t expecting was a voice of another child (what had the world come to if children were their front lines in warfare?). The voice was so young and so defeated. It made Matt’s skin crawl as he continued to listen all of the boy’s rambling.

After twenty minutes of the boys rambling, he stopped just as abruptly. “Please, believe me. Let me stay here, I’ll be alright- I’m fine. I promise. But believe me enough to save them.”

Matt smiled to himself as he thought of the child on the other end of the line. “Shut up, brat.”

.

Within three hours, forty-seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds after Matt hung up on him, he was breaking Ned out of the ward. Ned deleted any files that he was ever there- can’t look for a guy that never existed.

Even years after the ordeal, Ned would always ponder how a lawyer was willing to break so many laws. Matt would always reply it was _because_ he was a lawyer that he knew how to bend the law without breaking it. Afterall, _you can’t look for a guy that never existed_.

.

Matt had offered to take him home, back to his parents, but Ned refused to budge from where he was now. He knew that none of the work he’d accomplish would be anywhere near good enough if he went back home. That house would never be home; his parent’s arms would never feel safe again. But Ned didn’t care.

The world took Peter, Aunt May, Uncle Ben, MJ, and murdered Skye. They were the only things he would ever claim were his ever again. Matt didn’t seem like he cared too much, so he let him stay (but Matt did understand that the moment that Ned was out of sight, he would be dead within the hour- he also knew that Ned knew this as well but didn’t care).

Hours were spent combing over everything they shared to find something they could work with, Ned showed Matt all of his tech that he had kept hidden all over the city. Matt had sent out his associates (a term he uses lightly) to find them. The homeless population found them and kept them. They easily gave it up when they found out it belonged to Ned (or as they understood him as, Michelle’s friend; though they never explained themselves when asked).

As Ned kept count over the material, Matt ran his hand over the seven grooves in a charging port or a watch or something. “I should have eight bands. Two for everyone.” Ned called out as he retook inventory. “I need to find it.”

Matt moved aside for the child to work on his laptop (it was unnerving how capable Ned was with just basic equipment. Ned would shrug his shoulders, telling Matt that he was locked up for just over a month with nothing better to do. Asides from that, his viruses were still alive and well.

Neither needed to say anything as Ned typed away in codes that Matt didn’t even dream of understanding. Until he wasn’t. He was standing up, holding the screen with both of his little chubby baby hands (Matt seriously hated that small children were fighting a war they had no business in, he also accepted that they were capable). Until he wasn’t doing that either. Ned had fallen to the floor and he held himself tight, as if he was falling apart.

“It’s active. They can only be activated and remain activated by the person they are individually designed for. It’s MJ.” And for the first time, Matt saw the child in the boy in front of him, as Ned took stumbled reaching out for him. “She’s alive, Matt. She’s alive.”

Matt gently placed his arm around the boy’s shoulders as Ned tried to calm himself. “You know, it’s okay to cry, kid,”

“Afterwards. Let’s bring them home.”

(Ned never did cry. He couldn’t. What were his tears to the scars and the trails of blood running down the bodies of everyone he loved?)

.

Years later, Ned would watch as Peter and MJ relearned to be “normal”, regardless of Ned trying to convince them that normal was boring and they were too freaking amazing to be normal anyways. People would always shush him; telling that he was being insensitive to what they had to endure and the price to become “freaking amazing”.

Ned would always remind them it was a price that was already paid. Paid in years, blood, innocence, life as they knew it and a death of a good man. Most of all, he would remind them of something everyone else seemed to forget whenever they would retell their stories. Peter and MJ survived. They lived. But he wouldn’t argue about it afterwards. He didn’t need to. He knew that the other two understood exactly what he meant when he said this.

_You faced the inhumane side of humanity. And you survived. Now help others. _

Now Ned wasn’t complete a jerk. He knew when to push and when to pull. So, soon Peter, with his new abilities wore a mask to separate himself with what had been down to him. They wanted to make the suit black and grey ‘_because it’s safer, Ned. It doesn’t stand out as much, Ned. Blah blah, blah, Ned_’ but Ned was smarter. He made a quick design of Peter’s suit (he was short on time and ended making the model out of the Lego pieces Wade got them).

Peter fell in love the Lego model and wanted to suit to look just like that. Not Ned’s intention, but anything but the dreary black and grey. He couldn’t stand the thought of Peter surrounding himself with those hues.

Ned isn’t a hero; he couldn’t save them. He cannot heal them. He can’t even make them any safer. But he could do this. He could hold them all a little tighter. He could sew a smile onto his face. He could hold an umbrella on rainy days for Peter. He could sit beside MJ as she sat on park benches, lost in a memory long since past. He could sit beside Aunt May, as reassure her that he would do anything for her, because they were family. (Ned was pretty awkward when he asked if she considered him family to, but Ned would look back at his nine-year-old self with pride and fondness.) He could bother Matt on the phone because he could.

But that was all he could do. He wished that sometimes he could do more. But he knows he can’t. He was and still is, just a guy with a chair. Afterall, he’s just Ned.

(Ned would often go with MJ and Peter whenever they visited the graveyard for their loved ones. Not because he had anyone that he had lost, but to bring both of them back to the land of the living.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did add an extra chapter as a epilogue. So, I was aiming for three different kinds of agony for Team Spidey. I hope I did Ned justice, because I think he suffered just as much as they other two; just in ways where it's harder to see. 
> 
> NGL, I love comments, opinions and lasting impressions. Come talk to me!
> 
> Also, thank you for taking the time to read my story!


End file.
